The Colonel vs the Parson
by pastorannie
Summary: This is the original story that began the wonderful and unlikely relationship between Colonel John Casey and the rural pastor he called the Parson.


The Colonel Vs. The Parson

The chiseled jaw of the well built man was soaked in blood, and his body was currently sprawled half in and half out the wrecked Crown Victoria. Its front end was smashed around the fir tree and the body of the car was riddled with bullet holes. The man's seat belt had torn away from the clasp during the wreck, and his body was released to feel the full impact of the accident. After the screeching and tearing of the metal had reverberated around the deserted hillside, the only sound now was the gentle wind blowing through the forest and the occasional curious animal coming to investigate.

As he woke slowly, the pain became a white sheet of horror, bombarding his senses. "Think" he spoke hoarsely, as he tried to dial down the pain and remember the reason for his wreck. He took a quick inventory of his situation: his hand went to his forehead, and felt the pathway of grazing of the bullet that had skittered across his head. The blood on his jaw was a deep gash from hitting the steering wheel, he assumed. And as he tried to move totally out of the jammed door, he screamed in agony as he fell out onto the forest ground, landing on the broken right leg. His left side was bloodied too and as he struggled to lift his shirt up, he noticed the bullet hole still seeping his blood through the thin jacket. The late afternoon sky above him began to whirl with ever increasing speed, and as he vomited on the needle pine floor of the forest, darkness covered his eyes, and he feel deeply into the dark of his unconsciousness.

Annie had just spent a year of continual and difficult ministry in her position at the small rural church. She had lost her husband of ten years to cancer 8 months ago, but the church wished her to continue being their pastor. Since then, the church had helped her downsize into a small apartment about three miles from town, and had allowed her some bereavement time off. But three deaths among the older congregational members, had stolen her time off and she was back into the swing quickly. But this was her two weeks officially at vacation, and she was looking forward to driving up to Capital Forest and to her husband's family cabin nestled in the pristine fir forests. The sun had begun its westward journey and Annie had gotten a late start on her trip, due to another emergency at the church. But now, her trusty platinum grey Beetle was cruising along the back roads, she had put on one of her favorite worship cds and every window was down to let the deliciously warm and fir scented air in. Annie's heart was being to lift in praise, and for the first time this past grueling 8 months, Annie could smile, truly enjoying her day. As she downshifted to power up a steep hill, a deer suddenly leaped into her view. Annie slammed on the brakes and steered swiftly away from the frightened animal. Her rear tires spun on some loose gravel, and Annie felt herself losing control over her beloved Bug. "Dear Jesus, help me" she cried, and as the Bug spun twice, it slowed and came to rest pointing nose down a small ravine. Shaking, Annie popped her seat belt off and signed a breath of thanksgiving. "Thanks, God, I really didn't need to go down that hill."

She set the emergency brake, shut the car off and prepared to inspect the damage. Moving over to the passenger side, she opened the glove box, got out her emergency flashlight and moved outside around the Beetle to see if there had been any damage. It was then she heard the unearthly scream of pain from down below in the ravine.

"Oh, please God, help me" Annie prayed "Hello, um, is any one there?" she called out. "Oh, dear Lord, what is happening? What is that noise?" she prayed earnestly, and pulled out her cell phone to call 911. But the cell showed no service, and as the waning light from sky shafted through the huge trees down the hill she say the bloodied man lying face down in his vomit. Something propelled her slowly down the ridge, until she was next to the figure on the forest ground. Slowly she bent down, and gingerly touched the man's shoulder. "Sir, uh, sir… are you alright?" Annie, in spite of her fear, laughed maniacally as she realized how stupid that statement was. But she continued to try and access the injuries this man had.

Suddenly, as she touched him once more, he jerked awake, and before she knew what happened, he had her by the wrist with a cocked Sig Sauer P229 in her face. The sudden motion propelled Annie backward, and the bloodied man fell face down on her. "Oh God," Annie screamed, and the man clamped his hand over her mouth.

"Miss" he grunted, "please… I don't want to hurt you" his brilliant blue eyes were intense and filled with pain, his breathing labored and raspy. He kept his hand over her mouth until her trembling slowed down, and he slid his hand away, and rested his head on her shoulder. "Please…" he grunted again. "Let me….rest…arggh" he screamed as she tried to push him off of her. He rolled over and she finally saw the damage the wreck had down. His left hand was clutching his side, blood seeping over his fingers. His jaw was bleeding, and a deep jagged gash was cut in his left forehead. "God, my leg…" he moaned. And Annie saw the small jagged bone protruding slightly from his torn flesh.

"OH, oh, my dear Lord, please don't kill me sir." Annie pled as she tried to push away from him. The Sauer was still in his right hand, and he lowered it quickly to the forest ground. He looked directly at Annie, and his intense eyes bore into her heart. "Help me…please." He moaned again, and putting the safety on, he slipped the gun into the waistband of his pants. He then opened his bloodied hands, palms up, to her, and lowered his gaze down to the ground.

"O.k., I can do this…hummm, what do you need me to do?" Annie pushed her fear aside, realizing that this man was in no condition to attack her. Slowly, she sat up on all fours and crawled closer to him. His eyes snapped up to her, and for an instant, she saw a trace of fear flash through them, then he coughed violently and sank face up onto the forest ground.

"My phone…where's my phone…got to call in" he moaned and once more his hand went to his left side. "God… so much blood…I got to call…" he tried to move toward the Crown Vic but his body refused to allow him to, and he once more vomited into the ground.

Annie rushed to his side, and without thinking, she gently pulled the man back into her arms, as he continued to vomit. She pulled a handkerchief from her back jeans pocket, and slowly she began to dab some of the vomit and blood from his lips. His body tensed rigidly at first against her soft hug, but slowly, as she rocked him, he relaxed in her arms.

"Sshhh…the phones don't work up here. We're too far away from the cell towers. My name's Annie by the way, what's yours?" She spoke softly, as she inhaled the musk scent of this stranger in her arms. Suddenly, he stiffened, and with a look of panic, he turned his head and looked her into the eyes. "I…don't remember….I…." He grasped her shoulder, roughly, bruising it in his panic…."Dear God…I don't remember…." He tried to stand. He cried out in pain and slumped down in her arms, unconscious once more.

Annie held the man in her arms for a few moments more, praying to know what do to next. Her old Girl Scout first aid class knowledge kicked in, and she gingerly laid him down on the ground. Annie struggled up the ridge, until she got to the Beetle. Moving her luggage around, she found her coat, some water bottles, and a first aid kit. She lugged down the equipment down the hillside, and kneeling beside the wounded man, she began to wash his face and hands gingerly. She noticed the forehead gash. "Dear Lord, who is this man? He's been shot." She applied antiseptic cream to both gashes on his head and chin, and bandaged them. Slowly, she moved to raise his shirt, but before she could wash the wound, he jerked awake and once again grabbed her wrist.

"Stop..." he ordered, as his feverish eyes tried to connect with hers.

"Listen…"Annie trembled but spoke sternly. "I am your friend right now, and the only one that can get you out of this mess, besides the Lord God. So I am going to wash your side wound, and bandage it for you, whether you want it or not." She waited as she stared into the man's eyes, and then she saw him soften his look, and release her wrist. Silently, he nodded, and pulled the shirt higher for her to see.

She poured a portion of water on the wound, as he tensed once more and gritted his teeth. As the blood washed away, she saw the bullet hole, and she gasped.

"Oh man, you've been shot. I thought you had been wounded from the wreck."

"Is the bullet still in there?" He growled softly.

"I can't see in this light, but I don't think it went all the way through." Annie resumed her washing and became to apply the cream to the wound.

He reared back slightly as her cold fingers touched the hole, sucking in the cool air quickly.

"Got anything more antiseptic than this hydrocortisone crap? Anything harder, like some scotch." He croaked, and as she glanced quickly at his face she say the slight upturn playing on the corners of his mouth.

"I don't drink, sir. And I am afraid that if I had some you would want to put it in you, rather than on you." He barked a short laugh, and Annie grinned. "Here, I do have some water. Drink slowly" she said, and she lead the bottle to his lips. Unable to drink much, the man shook his head, and he caught her hand once more, gentler this time.

"Thank you, Annie…." He said softly, and held her hand a few seconds more. She blushed and gazed down to the ground.

"You are welcomed, stranger with the Sauer."

"I'm impressed…woman knows her guns." The man laid his head back down on the ground, and shivered in the cold.

"Oh, I'm sorry" she knelt again beside him. "Here's my coat. Let me put this around you," As she laid her coat around him, he shifted until the coat was wrapped around his upper body. She tucked the corners around his shoulders, and waist, and as her hands felt his body, the hard muscles beneath his skin tensed again.

"Sorry…" he grunted, as he reacted once again to her touch.

"It's ok, stranger. I usually don't go groping men like this." Annie smiled warmly again, as she tried to control the flutter of attraction in her stomach. She tilted back on her haunches and watched him struggle to keep his eyes open.

"Got to do something about my leg." He coughed again, and she helped him sit up and scoot against the car's door. "Got any leg brace in your car?" he gasped out, and then a twitch of his lips again as she shook her head. "How about a tire jack?"

"Ummm, right, I'll go get Gracie's tire jack." Annie began to rise, but the man caught her wrist once more.

"Gracie?" he growled, his eyes suddenly suspicious, his jaw set sternly.

Annie put her hand gently onto his. "It's my car's name. I name everything."

He relaxed and dropped his hand, closed his eyes. "A name for a car…" he mumbled as he pulled up the jacket around himself and slipped away to sleep again.

Annie once more climbed the hill and got the jack. Swiftly she followed the Vic's tire tracks back down and sat the jack near the man's right leg. She reached out and laid her entire hand on his chest. His eyes flashed opened and for a moment, a look of confusion rose up in them. "Annie…" he asked.

"I'm here. You have to tell me what to do. I don't want to hurt you, so you have got to tell me what to do."

"Here, take my pocket knife and rip the pant leg up to my hip bone." He reached slowly into his right front pocket, and once again hissed at the pain. He passed her the knife and watched her intently as she ripped his pant leg up. She stopped momentarily and raised her eye brow at his 4 leaf clover boxer leg, but when he barked "go ahead", she continued to cut up to the bottom of his pocket seam. She gasped at the deep purple bruises already forming on his thigh, but she now could see the femur was poking through his leg about 4 inches above his knee. .

"How bad?" he gritted his teeth again, and held the flashlight for her to see.

"Oh" Annie's voice sounded shaky and she tried not to vomit at the blood and fragmented bone. She glanced over to the man as he stared intently at her and then to his leg.

"Your femur has snapped into two." Annie tried not to cry but she hastily wiped the insistent leaking from her eyes.

"Annie…you got to put the two pieces back together again." He spoke slowly and reached for her arm. "You can do it. You haven't deserted me yet." He smiled a little and she nodded her head.

"Oh, I can't dear man with the Sauer. My God has never deserted me, and I got a feeling He isn't deserting you either." Annie shifted herself so she could look at the man's face.

"He sent you…to me, Annie." The man slowly raised his arm and caressed her tear tracks. She shuddered under his hot hand, and she suddenly gasped.

"You're running a fever. Here, have some more water. We have got to get you some more help. Just tell me what to do." Annie snuffled and then pulled back from his touch, to hand him some more water.

Sauer man looked intently around as he tipped the bottle up and gulped the cool liquid. "I need two flat pieces of wood or metal."

Annie thrust the first aid box at him. "Would this work?" she asked.

He grunted, and dumped the contents out on the ground. "Got the tire jack from…what you call the car…Gracie?" He looked intently at her face.

Annie nodded and looked around the ground for the jack. As she was searching for the jack, he had torn the aluminum kit box apart and managed to flatten two pieces of the white metal. Once the jack was in her hand, she made her way carefully back over to the man, and watched as he unbuckled his belt, and tried to loosen it from his pant loops. "Arrgh…" he gasped, as he ripped open the left side's bullet wound. "Let me" Annie said softly. She bent over his stomach, and gingerly threaded the belt from behind his back and through the loop right below the bullet hole. Once again, he sucked in a breach of air, as her hand fluttered across his mid section. In spite of the pain, he noticed the sweet scent of peaches in her hair, and her cross on the necklace that dangled from her neck when she bent.

"O.k, Annie, help me mold one piece under the backside of my leg." As she moved his leg the bone pierced his skin further. He groaned out, "damn…" . She stopped what she was doing, and placed a finger on his lips.

"Sssh…please…only God can damn." She plead.

"Annie…you are one strange lady." He grunted. "But you are right" he continued as he saw the hurt in her face. He reached out to touch her on the cheek again. "But you are my strange lady and we need to do this. What word can I use to cuss?" He smugly grinned.

Annie laughed softly, and looked at his much destroyed car. "How about Crown Victoria?"

"Crap. My beautiful car. Ok, Annie, that seems appropriate. Put this gauze on top of the wound. Place one piece of metal under my leg, and slip the belt over top of it. Hold it tight there and let me place this other kit cover on the bone." He braced himself for another onslaught of pain, as she wrapped his leg with the belt..

"Put the tire jack flat on the kit's lid over my bone, and wrapped my belt around it. And then pull the belt as tight as you can. Arrgh. Da…..Crown Victoria!" he gasped as she did as she was told.

"Now the hard part. You need to twist the tire jack, and let it tighten the belt, so it will force the bone back into itself." Using his left leg, he pushed himself against the car for leverage. "Annie, do it now."

She began to rotate the jack, tightening the belt and forcing the molded pieces of metal to pressure down on his femur. His chest was heaving, and his forehead bandage was already filling up with blood at the exertion. "Don't stop, Annie." He gasped. "Keep twisting." Tears flooded Annie's eyes, as his grunts became more insistent and louder.

"Dear Jesus, help me. Help him. Oh, Dear Jesus" Annie prayed softly out loud as she continued to twist the jack and force the bone back in. He tightened and thrust upward, and then his body went slack. She stopped to check his heart. Satisfied that he only fainted, she was able to force the bone completely back in through the skin. She heard a loud click as the two ends of bone merged together. Buckling the belt to make sure it stayed, she wound the whole apparatus with an ace bandage and secured the makeshift cast into place. Shivering from the damp and cool air, she nestled beside the man and waited the night out until he woke again.

The full moon had flooded the area where Annie and the man slept. The man mumbled incoherently and twitched with violent dreams. Annie woke with a start, and was surprised to find his arm protectively around her shoulders. But she felt his intense body heat, and she stirred to get the nearby water bottle.

"Sir, sir," Again, Annie put her flat hand on his chest, over his heart, and he slowly opened his eyes. "Annie… you still here?" he moaned and tried to moved. "Damn…sorry Annie, Victoria" he gasped and readily accepted the cool water she offered.

"Sit still, sir, until I can figure a way to get you up and out of this area up to Gracie." Annie took the flashlight and turned the beam on up the hill to try and see if he could navigate somehow up the slope. The man raised his head slowly and followed the flashlight's beam.

"I can make it up the hill if you will get me standing." He gazed in her eyes, and nodded curtly. Quickly Annie packed up her coat and the first aid items, and then rushed to his side as he first secured his weapon, and then struggled to use the smashed driver's door as a lever to rise to his feet. Gingerly, he took a short step, gritting his teeth. Annie slipped under his right shoulder and wrapped her left arm around his waist. He nodded and grunted his "thanks" to her.

Slowly, the two made their trek up the side of the hill. The man often reached out with his left hand to grab a small sapling and help pull them further up. His breathe came in short wheezes, and sweat ran in channels off his bandaged forehead.

"Maybe we should stop, sir." Annie suggested. But he shook his head and gasped "keep me going, Annie."

Finally, they reached the Beetle, and he leaned over the front hood shivering from the effort and from pain. Annie threw the coat and all into the back seat and she ran around to help him into Gracie. By the time they had maneuvered him into the passenger seat, his left bullet hole had ripped further and stained the bandage with fresh blood. Unable to bend the right leg, the man pushed as far up the seat as he could, until Annie released the catch that allowed him to push it back and down. Kneeling before his casted leg, Annie gently lifted it into the car.

"Oh, Victoria, " he groaned. "I can't stay with you, Annie. I'm losing it…" He grabbed her wrist again, not roughly but sternly. "Please, take me somewhere safe. Don't turn me in until I know who I am." He swallowed, and softly said, "please." His eyes went up into his head, and slumped unconscious once more.

"Lord, what do I do? I can't let him die, but now I can't go against his word." Annie wiped the man's troubled face once more, and cupped his cheek in his hand. "Lord, please help this man. I don't know if he is evil or good, but I will trust him to You." Annie sighed as the familiar sense of peace calmed her heart, and she ran to the driver's side, jumped in and started off for her family cabin.

It felt like he was on the high seas again. The pitch and roll of the ocean began to agitate his stomach, and he could taste the bile rising in his throat. "Stop" he mumbled, and he struggled out of the dream he was in bondage to. "Please, God, stop". Annie slammed on the brakes, and the man opened the door violently and retched again onto the gravel road. His lungs were rattling violently, and every wretch brought another piercing nail hammered into his forehead. Annie raced over to his side, sidestepped the vomit, and cradled his head in her chest. Softly, she began to pray and sing, rocking the man in her arms, as he began to settle down.

"How much farther?" he grunted.

"It's o.k.. We're here, sir. Your safe place." Annie shushed him, and bent over to look directly into his eyes. He struggled to zone in on her lips, and he repeated the word, "safe".

"Ok, time to try and move that body of yours sir, into the cabin." Annie raced to open the front door and then ran back to him quickly. "Here" she instructed. "Swivel your body around with both feet together." She carefully lifted both of his legs together as he swung his butt around, and then placed them on the small pathway to the front door.

Slowly, using his left leg and her body, they were able to get him to stand fairly straight, even though he hissed at the pulling of his left side.

"How far, Annie?" he struggled to look at the front door, his eyes were unable to focus correctly.

"About twenty feet, sir. We can do it. Once we're in, I'll get you settled and get fresh first aid supplies from the cabin." Slowly, they moved a few steps, then stopped to allow him time to breathe. Each step jarred his leg, and he grunted loudly, but continued to push himself forward. Once at the two steps to the front porch, he paused, and looked at Annie blankly.

"I had a physical therapist teach me 'Up to heaven and down to hell' so it's up on your good leg." Annie grinned in spite of the situation and he chortled.

"Already in hell, now, girl." But he obeyed her words and they were able to get up the stairs and into the simple cabin's living room before he began to loose his footing.

Annie snapped the lights on. "Couch, sir." Annie commanded, and the man grunted "Yes, Colonel." They were able to lower him carefully onto the fabric covered couch, and Annie quickly threw the afghan from the couch's back onto the now shivering body of the man.

"Listen, stranger. I'm going to build a fire and then get you some painkillers and antibiotics we have stored here. Ok?" Annie touched the man's chest, but he was already asleep again, grunting softly as his body spasmed.

Quickly Annie unloaded the food stuffs and luggage from the car, and built a small fire in the fireplace from the logs the family had brought in last family reunion. She then went looking for more bandages and found the Vicodin and Cepro in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, and another blanket from the large master bedroom in the back. She hurried over to him, and tried to wake him up, but exhaustion and pain had released him into a deep sleep. She tucked the extra blanket around him, and went to the kitchen to brew some coffee. "It's going to be a long night, Lord. Help me to help him." Annie, with her steaming mug of coffee, went and refueled the fireplace. Only when she sat down near the couch and his side, did she allow herself to finally relax and before she could stop herself, she too fell blissfully asleep.

"God…dear God… no" Images of guns, bombs exploding and being beaten with whips came into his mind. The man rolled his head back and forth on the couch, and Annie immediately sprang to his side. Her hand went out again to touch his chest right above his heart, and he slowed down, and opened fevered eyes her way. He struggled to slow down his hyperventilated breathing. "Where…are we?" He tried to move but was hit again with a wave of pain from all over his body.

"Ssssh. We're safe in my family's cabin. You need to take some antibiotics, and pain killers, ok? I brought some apply juice and let's try to get this down you." She looked into his eyes, and waited for his permission. He nodded curtly and with her help leaned to sit up slightly. He watched her move over to the lamp stand and retrieved the pills. She passed him the bottles, and left to get the juice from the refrigerator.

As she came back into the living room, she heard him gasp again. "John" he uttered as he looked at the partially torn labels. She knelt beside him, a question playing on her face. "What?" she asked.

He looked again at the pills and lifted them up to her to see. "John?" he asked.

"Those were my husband's. The prescription was written out to my husband John, right."

She hesitated as she watched his face struggle with the knowledge.

"John…" he shivered and grunted, and then said it again, stronger. "John. That's my name, I remember now."

"Well, John, that's a good start. Let's get some of these meds in you and that might help you remember more." Before she could offer him the juice, he had dry swallowed 4 Cepro's and 4 Vicodins in one swallow.

"Wow, impressive John." She giggled and watched as he drank the juice with a guilty expression.

"Well. Yeah, used to swallowing some kind of pills." He stopped the glass in mid gulp, and again a series of warped images came across his memory's eye. He saw someone grab his mouth and force him to swallow a pill even as his body tried to pull back from the unknown assailant. John dropped the glass and grabbed his head. "God…"

He groaned, and instantly Annie cradled his head in her chest. "Annie…what am I? I see explosions, and guns, and being force fed pills." He lifted his head and looked at her. "What if I will hurt you? What if I kill you?" He clutched her shoulders and the look of terrified agony flashed over his feverish face.

Annie prayed inwardly for wisdom at what to say. She slowly reached out and brushed a wayward piece of hair from his forehead and spoke gently to him. "John, I trust you." He kept shaking his head, his eyes darting from her face to the floor. "No, no." he moaned.

"John, listen to me." Annie again took his face in her hands, and forced him to look at her eyes. "You could have killed me way back there by the accident, when you pulled your Sauer out at me. You could have killed me when I got the tire jack and first aid kit from Gracie." He tried to jerk away, but her voice immediately commanded him to pay attention. He responded instantly and stared at her eyes. She let go of his face, and lowered her hands, pointing to the Marine ring on his right hand. "See, you are a Marine. And my John, my first John…" she smiled sadly, "also was a Marine." He looked at her quizzically. "He's dead…from cancer. But never once did I ever have to mistrust my John. He covered my six every time I needed him, and I believe you are that kind of man." His body relaxed and he eased back down on the couch.

"Thank you" he barely whispered, and then grimaced and clutched his left side.

Suddenly his demeanor hardened and he looked at her again. "Annie, you've got to get it out. It will kill me if I leave it in any longer." He pulled up his shirt, and removed the leaking bandage quickly.

Oh, John…."she gulped. "I don't know. I had to help my John get a nail out of his hand once," The man grunted at her, and she twitched a small smile, "but a bullet is long past my doctoring."

"Wish we had Ellie here," before John realized what he said, he gasped. Annie glanced up at him. "Ellie?"

"Not girl friend…" he was struggled with the pieces of the puzzle locked in his fragmented memory. "Doctor…friend…I think. But you are here, and I'll tell you what to do. Got a first aid kit, around?" he glanced at her, and she smiled. "You and first aid, John." She rose up and patted him gently on his bandaged knee. "Whatever will I do with you. " It was then as she went to retrieve the kit that he saw she had replace the beat up first aid jack splint, sometime during the night with a knee brace that was actually feeling pretty good.

She returned with a larger first aid kit and he opened it and rummaged around for a scalpel, tweezers and more gauze. "Here," he passed her the bottle of alcohol, "first pour that in the bullet hole." She helped him out of his torn and bloodied shirt, and leaned him back down on the couch. Gently, she poured some alcohol on a gauze piece and began to fuss with the hole. "Ain't going to cut it" he growled. He forced her hand to tilt the bottle over the hole, and poured it on. Instantly, he went rigid and thrust his body upward. "Pour some more" he spoke with gritted teeth, and she obeyed. "Now wipe the scalpel and tweezers with the alcohol." He groaned under the onslaught of pain from the alcohol.

She held the scalpel above the wound and he stopped her trembling hand. "Annie, just follow the bullet's path. It shouldn't be in me that far. They…" suddenly another memory flashed up in his head. "They were too far way to let the bullet go too far in. OK?"

She nodded and very slowly entered the hole. "Crap" he groaned, and tried not to twist away from the knife. Suddenly she stopped, and he felt her touch the bullet. "There, ok, Annie, take the tweezers, follow the same path down, and pull it out." "Wait…" he tried to stop the wave of nausea that was building in his throat. "Annie…" she glanced at him. "Annie…I trust you." He caught a hold of her necklace, and gently rolled his thumb around it, "and I trust the God you love."

"Ready, John?" Annie knew this was the hard part, so once again she waited for his permission. He stared intently at her, and nodded his head once. The tweezers entered the hole, and his grunting became frantic. He reared his head back, and tried not to heave with the pain. "Keep going…" he urged her, and then he felt her grab the bullet and slowly pull it out. Finally, he felt her withdraw it all the way out, and drop it into a small dish by the lamb stand. "Good work, woman…." he spoke through a tear stained face, and without thinking brought her hand up to his lips, and gently kissed them.

"Oh, John" she moaned. "Alcohol, Annie, pour more in." He reluctantly let go of her hand, and laid back. She emptied the last of the bottle in the wound, and once again he struggled to hold own to his sanity. "You did good, woman. I need to thank…." Slowly, John's eyes drooped down, and his entire body relaxed into the warmth of the couch, as the painkillers began to take effect. Annie quickly packed the hole with gauze and taped it up. She went and got a bowl of warm, soupy water, and began to wash the rest of his wounds thoroughly. As he slept, she studied his face, the angle of his battered chin, the rich warm red chocolate of his hair, and she had to stop from admiring his firm, broad chest, sprinkled with chocolate and a few gray hairs. She bathed his upper body carefully and gently, and as the water washed away the blood and grit from the wreck she saw old scars that sprinkled themselves over his upper chest. She prayed to her God as she cleaned and only when she tilted him gently over to wash his back did she stop in wonderment. There across his entire back were old elongated, thin scars, and she recognized the work of a whip.

"Oh, my John…" she rolled him back on the flat of his back, "Whatever did you do to deserve what my Lord himself suffered?" She signed deeply at the mystery of this man who had barged so unannounced into her life. Quickly she maneuvered a soft brushed cotton t shirt over his head and stuffed his arms through as best she could.

He stirred slightly in his sleep and she knew she needed to get the rest of him washed.  
"Oh, boy…what will he think when I change his pants? Lord, forgive me for looking…"

Slowly she took his shoes and socks off, and washed his feet gently. "Nine toes?" she noticed the baby toe of his left foot was amputated in rather a jagged manner. She unzipped his slacks, and pulled his pants, boxers and all off of him. "Lord, have mercy," she gulped and quickly covered his privates with a towel. She left the brace on, but washed both legs with refreshed warm water, and found a pair of her husband's sweats in the bedroom. This John was a large man, and after a few struggles, she wrestled a pair of grey sweats over the lower part of his body and up as far as she could go on his butt. Once again she wrapped the afghan around his body, and laid her cool hand on his brow. "Jesus, let him rest now from his life for a few days." She put the first aid kit away and cleaned up the night table. She carefully carried the dish with the bullet and was about to throw it away when she stopped. The still small voice she knew and loved stopped her, and "I better keep that for him." She said. Finally, after a quick glass of apple juice, she grabbed a pillow, and another blanket and went to settle herself on the floor beside John for the rest of the night.

The warmth of the sun shafting through the front window was what first woke him up. For a moment, a small instant, he felt good, and then it all crashed down on him. Images swirled again in front of his eyes: Rocket launchers with him at the trigger, bonzei plants, and hand to hand combat and then the images slowed down and he remembered himself in a gaudy green shirt, khaki pants, standing near a tall, young man named…"Chuck" John spoke out loud, and then spat out, "Chuck Bartowski."

"What"… a still small voice on the floor spoke up, and he slowly turned to find Annie looking bleary eyed at him. "What…who?" she asked again.

John smiled slightly and tried to move himself up to a sitting place. He then noticed the new sweats and his eyes twinkled, "So…." He held the pant leg away from his body. "I noticed you couldn't wait to take advantage of me in my hour of need."

"Ha!" Annie laughed. "Yes, John, it was all a super, secret plan to get you to my lair and then jump on you when you were unconscious." She turned over to look at John and he had the strangest look on his face. "What's wrong?" she rose up and lightly touched his left leg.

"Interesting choice of words, woman. I just remembered something and someone." John stopped in mid sentenced and then shook his head. "Annie, it's so frustrating. I can't seem to piece together who I am and what I am and yet, moments come when I see Chuck and some place named the Castle, and I feel like I am right on the cusp of understanding this life of mine." He grasped her hand and began to softly thumb circles around the top of it.

"John, have you noticed that when you remember, it is when you are not trying so hard to remember?" Annie asked. He frowned at her words, and then he dropped his head.

"Will I ever remember?" he whispered.

"Well, Marine, I got a feeling you will find out who, what, where, and how, but for me I need coffee." Annie rose up from the floor and the solemn mood was broken further, when John's stomach growled.

"How about I use the bathroom, and then help you. And while you are washing up, I can try to russle up some vittles, partner." Annie laughed and left for the bathroom, not realizing that John had flashed on a blond aired woman named Sarah, and the Crest of the Central Intelligence Agency. Before he could think about the memory, Annie had returned and she helped him up from the couch, and slowly, as he leaned on her, she led him to the bathroom. By the time he was in the bathroom, he was gasping from the pain, and he leaned on the counter by the sink.

"John?" Annie touched his back and rubbed comforting circles on his shoulders. "Need help…to you know?" as she pointed to the toilet.

His head came up and he stared at his bandaged image in the mirror. "I…think not, woman." He growled and then his gaze soften when he saw a flash of slight hurt cross her face. "Annie, the pills are wearing off…but I think I can pee by myself." He grinned at her, and she nodded. As she turned to leave, she said, "Oh, John, by the way, where in the world did you get clover leafed boxer shorts?" She snorted gleefully at his reddened face and quickly left him to do his business. It burned sharply as he relieved himself, and he knew the antibiotics were helping fight a bladder infection too. He leaned for support on the john's toilet tank, and sighed deeply.

"God, Annie's God, I really need you. I haven't been talking with you much, but please you got to help me. Help me find out who I am, and please keep Annie and me safe." He bowed his head and let a few silent tears fall into the toilet.

Annie had heard it all by the open bathroom door, and she also joined her heart and prayer of healing for this man she realized she was falling in love with. She backed away and then nosily knocked at the door.

"John, I brought my John's crutches if that would help you. Let me leave them by the door, and I'll go fix some food. You're about due for some more pills."

"Right." John flushed, pulled the sweats up slowly and limped carefully back to the sink.

He washed his hands, and once again, the sound of the water made him flash on a memory. This time, he felt himself falling, falling from a high balcony, tied to another man, and then diving into a pool. John jerked his head up, and that quickly the memory was gone. He studied the features that he knew were his own, and he checked over his bandaged side. "Nice job, Annie." He commented, and carefully maneuvered himself with the crutches back to the kitchen for breakfast.

Annie was humming softly as she cooked some oatmeal. When she turned to place the bowls on the table, she glanced up and her breath caught in her throat. The early morning sun was shining on this John, and for an instance, she saw her John. Swallowing quickly, she helped him over to the table, and then returned with his pills. "Here" she gently prodded him, and as she dished up the oatmeal, he swallowed 4 more of each.

"That song…you sing very nice." John smiled a little and looked shyly at her. She realized that they were seeing each other in the open sunshine for the first time clearly, and they both seemed a little hesitant. But when she smiled, he relaxed in the joy he saw in her eyes.

"Thank you dear sir. I love to sing. In fact, I lead choir at the church I pastor." That got an eyebrow reaction, and he began to ask her all kinds of questions about her job and ministry. The hours flew by and they laughed over some silly story about a wedding she had performed that went bad, and it was only when she saw him stifle a yawn behind his hand, that she stopped.

"Why don't I help you go and lay down and rest?" His eyes were heavy and he reluctantly nodded. Carefully, he rose from the chair, and reached for the crutches. The two of them walked slowly to the back bedroom, and she helped him into the guest bed. The room was furnished with beautiful heritage quilts, and the bed was hand carved oak with a scroll pattern imbedded in the head board. Before she could even draw the blankets up over his body, he had fallen sleep. Once again, she laid her hand upon his brow and softly prayed for the complete physical and mental healing of this John.

His sleep seemed quiet as Annie checked on John periodically throughout the day. She had found some of her John's old clothes and underwear and set them in on the bureau until he woke up. Each time she tiptoed in she studied the face that seemed almost child like, though it still was flushed with a slight fever. She was just turning around to exit the room, when she heard his slurred voice…"Annie?" he tried to roll over but stopped himself when he felt his femur move slightly.

"John?" she approached his side of the bed, and reached out to touch his bruised face. He caught her hand, and flinched away and then slowly brought it once more up to his lips.

"Forgive me, Annie…" he dropped his eyes, and smiled oddly. "I find that I am in an embarrassing position of needing to ahhh…" he stilled…

"Pee?" they both said it together. Annie giggled and then grabbed the crutches and helped him stand. Once again they both went into the guest bathroom and he managed to do his business with out too much showing. His muscles were stiff from being thrown around the Vic, but his migraine was gone and his bullet wound was healing slowly. His leg still was killing him, and he knew that they would need to check the alignment of the bone once he was out in the living room.

He turned around to find Annie holding a bundle of loose clothes and underwear for him.

"John, " she motioned to the shower stall, "there is a shower seat in there and a handicap shower head we had to use for my John. You are welcome to use it if you would like."

John straightened his body up and grinned slightly. "Hot water would be a blessing, Annie, but I need help with the leg brace." He staggered to the toilet and sat down on the lowered seat, sliding the sweats off down past his butt. Before he could go any further, she threw him a small hand towel to cover himself up. Once the sweats were removed, she knelt by his battered right leg and slowly began to release the Velcro brace. Gingerly, she slipped the brace off, and they both got a good look at the damage the broken femur had done. The broken skin had began to heal, but there were streaks of red inflamed tissue emanating from the wound.

"Crap" John grunted. "It's infected. Any more of that rubbing alcohol?" He leaned his head wearily back and rested it on the wall.

"Maybe something better," Annie hurried off to the kitchen and rummaged around the cupboards, until she found an unopened bottle of scotch tucked behind the canned foods.

When she entered into the bathroom, John jerked awake and spied the bottle instantly.

"Now Parson, I thought you didn't drink" he growled at her.

"I don't, but my father in law does." Annie laughed and proceeded to open the bottle.

"Oh, Annie, do we have to? What a horrible use for a nice bottle of scotch. GOD!" John arched up as she poured a good amount on the wound. His hands clutched his leg, and he banged his head several times on the wall behind the toilet. Suddenly, he grabbed the bottle, and chugged several swallows before he was able to catch his breath. By this time the towel had left his lap and he was sitting naked in front of this country pastor.

"Here" he thrust the bottle at her, and stared defiantly right in her eyes, "and I don't care

A rat's behind whether you join me for a drink or not!" With that he rose, staggered into the stall, cranked on the handles for the hot water and sat down. Still cussing under his breathe, he let the water spew down on him, and laid his weary head back on the shower wall.

By the time he was done in the shower, his temper had died down, and he realized he no longer heard Annie in the bathroom. A little ashamed at his outburst, he slowly opened the stall door and limped out to the sink ledge, There, on the pile of clothes, was a short note in a scrolling handwriting.

"When you are done being a total jerk, there's food on the table."

He boldly stared at the defiant man in the mirror, and then his look softened. "God, I blew it. Here she is taking care of me, and I come across as an ungrateful s.o.b. Help me to be a little more grateful." He slowly dressed himself in the fresh t shirt and sweats and limped out to the kitchen with the brace in his right hand, and the two crutches tucked securely under his left.

The plate of food was on the table but Annie was no where to be found. "Annie? Annie?

John called out first softly and then more urgently. Suddenly, the hackles on the back of his neck rose up and he cautiously reached for the Sauer on the couch lamp stand. He slipped the safety off and slowly maneuvered down the short hallway until he heard someone softly crying. He peeked into the master bedroom and he saw Annie's back to him, with her head in her hands.

"Lord Jesus, I can't do this. He is so rough, and I get scared, and I just can't do this. What if he is someone wanted by the police? How can I be sure? Lord, I want to help him remember, but there is just something there that is so hard to understand…"

At that moment, John's leg gave out, the crutches fell, and he staggered into the room with the Sauer pointed at this caring woman. She rose from the bed, screamed, and threw the nearest large pillow at him, tilting the gun up and it promptly fired into the ceiling. "Annie…stop!" he ordered, and rolled himself onto the bed, clutching his leg and tossing the gun onto the large mattress. Before she could exit the room, he caught her by the arms and wrestled her to the bed. "Stop!" he demanded, his face only a few inches away from hers, their eyes locked in a battle of wills. "Stop.." once more he commanded her, and then he roughly kissed her quivering lips. "I need your help, Annie. Please help me, and …" he stopped and waited until her sobs had quieted down. "Forgive me…" He chocked out the words, and then lowered his head onto her safe arms again. "Forgive me…." And then the sobs from the depths of this great man, began to swell up and burst forth. Her body softened and once again she held this man, this mysterious, strong man and let him vent his frustration.

It seems as if hours had gone by until they were both able to sit up and hold each other quietly. "John…I really didn't mean to hit you with a pillow" Annie confided.

John snorted. "It should have been a two by four. Sometimes, Annie, it takes a lot to get into this hard head of mine. But, I am grateful to you. You saved my life Annie. And you deserve a medal for just putting up with my attitude." His hand went up and tilted her face up so he could look within her eyes. "Please, forgive me, Annie. I don't deserve the mercy and grace you have shown me, and I certainly don't deserve your love."

"John…" Annie lowered her eyes, "I think we need to go a little slower here. I do care for you…"she raised her hand to his face and stroked the stubble cheek softly. "It's been so long since I have know the touch of someone like you, and to smell, " Annie blushed again, as John grunted as a small smile played at his lips. "The smell of a man like you… but we need to concentrate on getting you well and remembering things, ok?"

John once more leaned in to kiss Annie but this time his lips swept a chaste touch on her forehead, and he held her in a comfortable hug. He took in a shuddered breath, but then agreed. "You have given me hope, Annie. Now, I need your help with this da…Vic leg brace." John scooted back onto the bed and passed her the brace. As she moved off the bed to kneel by his leg, several photos that were on the bed moved and bumped into him. He reached over and brought them to his eyes…and it happened again. Flashes of American troops running through streets of sand and bricks…bombs and gunfire…and one man, the insignia of a cross on his lapel, was helping him as they staggered across the terrain and into a bombed out house. "Come on, Casey, just a little further," the chaplain urged as he helped him sit down. Blood was spewing out of John's leg, and the chaplain grabbed a bandana and began to curb the flow with a tourniquet. The chaplain's name badge swam in and out of his line of vision, and suddenly John rushed forward to the present time.

"Coburn, John Coburn." John thrust the photo towards Annie, her face bewildered at what had just happened.

"Yes, that's right. That's my husband, John Coburn" She took the photo and then began to understand. "You met him, didn't you?" She grabbed John's hand, and sat beside him on the bed.

"He was a chaplain, wasn't he? In Afghanistan?" John searched Annie's face for approval, and when she nodded, he continued.

"He saved my life, Annie. We were heading out in the early morning for a reconnaissance maneuver, when we were ambushed by the Taliban. He really should not have been there, but he was fluent in Arabic, and often served as our interpreter."

Annie continued to stare intently at this John, drinking in the memories of the two men who meant so much to her.

"I remember him so brave for a chappy. I got hit, right where the bone fracture is, and he literally dragged me to a safe room and tied a tourniquet around my thigh. I just kept seeing the sun sparkling off his cross on the lapel and I was bound and determined to not forget the man who would save my life. I saw his last name, and that was the last I remember of things until I woke up in Germany months later in a hospital. No one could tell me anything about Capt Coburn, except that he had gotten shipped out with the other wounded back to the states and I lost contact with him"

Annie's eyes were wet with tears. "He came home to me, John. Weak, wounded, his leg too, that's why I have the brace, and it wasn't long after that he was diagnosed with cancer. Something about being exposed to a chemical warfare agent over in Afghanistan. We had 5 wonderful years together after the initial diagnosis. He helped me at our church; He was a wonderful counselor, especially for young men and women with P.T.S.D. Toward the end, our church family rallied around us both and often provided meals and car rides to chemo treatments. He died in my arms, up here at this cabin, in this room, John." Annie was sobbing now, clutching John's strong arms, and he pulled her once more into his safe hug. Slowly, he began to rock her, just as she did, and his gentle voice began to sing a lullaby he remembered his mother singing to him.

Annie snickered sloppily in his chest. "Hush, Little, baby?" She pulled away from his arms and grinned goofily at him. "Is that the best you have, soldier?" she smiled through her tear stained face.

"Hey, not unless you want me to sing a perfect High c?" John chortled and then instantly stopped, as the newly found memories rushed in….four people crowded around a device, In the memory, he opened his mouth and a perfectly tuned high c emerged. A compartment popped out and the others stood gaping at him.

"John?" Annie placed her hand splayed out on John's chest over his heart and called his name again.

He grabbed her arms at first roughly, and then gentled the grip down. "I remember. I'm in the military intelligence…I'm helping find out some information and I sang a perfectly pitched C. My name is John ….Casey. Col. John Casey. Oh, dear God, Annie I remember." He hugged her again and kissed the top of her head. It was at that moment, his stomach growled, and they both began to laugh. The heaviness of the mood was replaced with the joy of memories regained, and once the brace was back on Casey's leg, the two of them limped back to the kitchen for a celebratory meal of toasted cheese

sandwiches and soup.

The rest of the evening was spent in times of recollection, as John was able to tell Annie more about her husband's military career, and Annie shared about their married years together.

"Ever someone important to you in your life, John?" Annie placed the pills and juice again in front of John and he nodded his thanks.

"Katherine and Alex. We met when I was a young soldier, and before we could get married, I went into a deep covert black ops operation. I didn't see Katherine until 20 yrs. later, but she didn't recognize me. It was only when we were mopping up the bad guys," John winked at Annie, and then continued, "that a beautiful young woman with my hair and eye color, came running into the room and reached for my Katherine, her mother."

Annie clutched Casey's hand, and he grunted a thank you and then continued. "Annie, she's my daughter. Katherine named her after me, after my real name. I have to stay away from them now, because if some of the bad guys found them out, they would kill them to get back at me." Casey stopped and breathed out a shaky sigh. "Someday, Annie, I hope to retire from all this covert stuff, and try to get back to them." John reached for his Sauer, now once again by the lamp stand, and he held it up to her. Annie touched the gun tenderly, and pried it from his fingers, laying it back down on the stand.

"You and I both know that tomorrow may never come, John. You need to let them know who you are…give them that choice…I got a feeling that Alex would be honored to have such a fine man as you as her father. Whether you and Katherine ever come back together, I don't know. But Alex needs the chance to choose, John. Don't take that from her, ok?"

"Since when did you get so wise, Parson?" Casey smiled slightly and then solemnly nodded. "You are right, Annie. Time to let some new hope into my life again." He reached for Annie's hands and shyly brought them once more to his lips for a deep kiss.

"Well" Annie gasped. "If neither of those women don't want you, I know a country parson that would love to pull bullets out of you any day."

They both laughed, and as they locked up the house for the night, Casey walked Annie down to the main bedroom.

"Annie" John's voice was low and somehow the seductive tone shot pangs of desire through Annie. He backed her up to the bedroom door, but he only bent to kiss her forehead once more. His voice was deep and graveling in her ear, as he whispered, "I think that I could fall in love with you very easily, Parson. But you and I both know it's not the right time nor the right place." John slapped his bandaged forehead with his hand, as he pulled back from Annie's face. "Man, I can't believe I am saying good night to a beautiful woman outside of her bedroom, when I much rather be in her bed."

Annie blushed, and then reached up on her tiptoes and gave him a deep, smoldering kiss right on his lips. Her hands cupped the back of his head and played with his soft curls at the nape. His arms rolled around her sides, and he pulled her to him, deepening the delicious moment they were sharing.

They both pulled back, slightly out of breathe, and Annie's eyes were sparkling. "That, John Casey, is the best proposition I have received since the chaplain's death. Good night, Col. John Casey. Sleep well." She popped into her bedroom before he could say another word, closed the door between them and ran for her bed, giggling, like a love lore teenager all the way.

He leaned his head onto her door, and stood there several moments, until he felt the pills begin to lull him into a foggy haze, and he could get his body quieted down from the sexual tension.

"Damn!" he swore as he turned from her door to limp down to his room.

As he turned away, he heard her voice call out: "I heard that, Col. John Casey!"

"Sorry, Parson Annie Coburn" he yelled back and grunted loudly, slamming his door hard at his frustration, and stomping as hard as his legs would let him to his bed. It took him at least two hours to calm down, and when he finally did, deep restful sleep eluded him most of the night, as memories of the C.I.A., the mission with Coburn in Afghanistan, someone named Chuck Bartowski and finally Annie's wonderfully sensual and deep kiss haunted his dreams.

John Casey, deadly NSA agent, handler of one Charles Bartowski, the Intersect, was standing over the stove, humming away as he scrambled eggs for breakfast. Annie came stumbling into the kitchen, and stopped at the sight before her. John carefully turned around, and with a frilly apron tied over his tee shirt, and a delicious smelling fry pan in his hands, grinning from ear to ear.

"Well good morning to you, sunshine. I see you are allergic to mornings." He hopped over to the table and laid the pan of eggs on the hot pad, and pulled the chair out for her.

She eyed him suspiciously, as he continued to hop around even successfully getting a hot cup of fresh coffee in her hands without spilling. She breathed in deeply the aroma, and grunted.

"Deathly allergic to mornings," she growled. He plopped down beside her and dished up the eggs, country potatoes, and sausage onto their plates. Annie continued to sip on the mug, and Casey could see her brain literally wake up as the more she drank.

"Wow, John, this is amazing. A man of many great talents." Annie brightened and reached out to take his hand. He brought her hand up to his lips, and softly kissed them. She blushed and quickly withdrew it, and then folded them on her lap. John began to eat, but as the fork was moving to his lips, he stopped.

"What? He asked. "Are they done right? Are they ok?" His eyes showed some hesitation, and he put down his fork without tasting.

"I need to ask you if we could pray." Instantly, Annie's initial shyness sprang forward, and John relaxed. "Of course," he grunted. "With my cooking, we need any divine help we can get" He reached out to her hand and bowed his head, and let Annie say a simple, but heartfelt prayer of thanks.

They both plunged into the meal heartedly, and conversation was easy and happy.

It seems natural for them to be together, and they cleaned up the dishes swiftly while talking about history of the cabin. John was moving better this morning, but he still needed to sit for a short rest, so she helped him back into the living room and the couch.

"So Col., what is on your agenda?" Annie sat next to him and swung her body towards him, and reached out to play with the back of his curls. Casey's face no longer had the large bandages: a few sterile strips were placed over the bullet trail on his forehead, but his chin had several lovely shades of bruising. He almost purred when she caressed the back of his neck, and she giggled.

"So, all I have to do to get any of that secret information in that handsome head of yours is to give you a neck message?"

"Oh, he..ck, yes. But now that you know my Achilles heel, I am going to have to shoot you." Casey's eyes sparkled and then he signed loudly.

"I could stay here forever, Annie, with you. Do you know that?" Casey looked intently into her eyes, and then a shadow of sadness flickered over them. "But…"

"We need to get you in contact with your superiors, and see what we can get out to the wreck, right?" Annie dropped her hand and then placed it on his leg. "How does that feel?"

"Leg is fine as long as I keep the brace. Once I'm back, I'll have it x-rayed" He rubbed the leg absentmindedly, and then jerked slightly when she put her hand over his heart.

"No, John, how does this feel?" she pushed slightly on his chest, and he once more grabbed her hand and kissed it.

"Well, dear Parson, " he hesitated….somehow sharing his deep feelings with Annie, something he remembered he rarely did, seems so natural.

"I need to go, I need to do what your God has called me to do, but…" he stopped and grunted. "I truly, for the first time in my life, want something more than my spy life, and more than undercover black ops, and more than…" he inhaled sharply, as he remembered the many times he had been tortured, and shot.

"I really care about what I do, Annie. It's important, it's for my country, it's…"

Annie interrupted, "it's for me, John. So I can be free to preach about God and open my Bible without the fear of persecution and death, John. You are right. Your work lets me do my work. Your life lets me do my life. Your skulking around in the dark, allows me and my church to find the light of hope and faith."

"Skulking, huh?" he grunted at the use of the word, but then smiled. Annie, " he stopped and then looked directly into her brown eyes. "I don't want to get lost in that darkness. I have been there, and it is a horrible place to be."

"Is that where you were whipped?" she asked quietly.

"How did you know?" his jaw clenched and he looked at her sharply.

"The first night on this very couch, I was washing you and I saw the whip scars."

Casey signed, and once again held her hand tightly. "I was captured in Afghanistan by a militant group of terrorists who were looking for the reason for the raids your John and I were on. They had captured me, after Coburn left to radio for help, and dragged me away before he returned. I don't remember much of where they took me, but I do remember the sessions of excruciating torture, and the endless questions. They were pretty rough. Mainly whippings, and beatings. I thought that no one knew where I was, and the endless days of pain and discouragement were doing a royal number on my psyche."

Casey laid his head back on the couch, and closed his eyes, against the onslaught of the memories. "I had been trained to handle the pain, but I will still young in my training to handle the psychological crap they pulled. I nearly lost it…the darkness was so solid and oppressive, and I truly began to believe no one out there really knew or even cared as to where I was."

"John, I'm so sorry. It must have felt that you were in your own personal hell." Annie's eyes were glistening with tears, but she remained still to allow him to process it.

"Exactly. But I do remember, in the most oppressive darkness of that time, someone came into my cell, a young girl maybe about 11. She was allowed to bind my wounds, give me just enough first aid…" John paused and barked out a small laugh. "to keep me alive for more torture. God, Annie it was horrible." John's body was shivering, and Annie quickly got a glass of juice and a blanket to put over his shoulders.

"Thank you, love." He acknowledged as he gulped down the juice. Annie probed further…"a little girl" she asked.

"Yes, I think her name was Malek.. She was a slave to the group's leader, and that meant probably his whore." Annie gasped at that statement, and then she shuddered.

"She would sneak in a little more food, some boiled meat, a piece of fish, any protein she could get her hands on, and I know now that without her help, I would be dead. After one particular tough session with Naahan's whip, the thugs threw me into my cell, and hauled off and kicked me. I heard the ribs bust, and it felt like my entire mind was cracking up too. Malek appeared out of no where and somehow got the s.o.b.s off of me. She bound up my ribs, all the time she was praying softly for my soul, my mind, and body. Just like you did, Annie the night of the wreck. The same prayers, not to Allah, but to your God and your Jesus. I knew then, somewhere, in the desert thousands of miles away from my home and my country, God had sent a Christian angel to help me, to give me hope, to give me love." John whipped the sweat from his face, and rubbed his leg again.

"It wasn't more than a week after the rib busting that I heard the guns and rocket shells going off around the compound. Malek came running in, and tried to get me to stand up and get out of there. I couldn't do it, Annie. My body wouldn't move, it was too much. Then the leader, Mohammed Kalid, ran in and shot her right through the heart. His own servant….his own woman." Casey was having trouble breathing, and his chest began to ache from the memory. Annie placed her hand onto his heart, and he quieted his breathing down.

"I remember the rage I felt, and I tried to lift myself up to do something to avenge her death…and then he pointed his filthy gun at me. A shot rang out, and I swore it was the end of my life. But then Kalid grunted, and the blood seeped out of his mouth, and he fell to the ground dead not four inches from my body. I looked up and saw the best sight I had seen in years. American soldiers, their rifles locked and loaded and they were grinning at me. One of them knelt before me, and grabbed my hand. 'Lt. Casey, Capt. Coburn sent us.' " Annie gasped and began to softly cry.

"You see, Annie, first it was Malek who saved me. Then it was your own husband who saved me, and now it is you who saved me. I have to go and repay the debts I owe to those three people, by making sure you and all you love are safe."

"Promise me, John Casey, one thing." Annie was smiling widely at him, as she wiped his face with a tissue.

"What?" he inhaled once more to still his pounding heart.

"That you keep Col. John Casey safe too, all right?" She leaned in and placed a sweet kiss on his mouth. He clung to her and they sat in a silent embrace for many minutes.

The trip back to the wreck site was a great deal more pleasant for Col. John Casey than a few days prior. However, he found himself getting a little nervous as they approached the end of the road he had been forced off of. Annie pulled over and stopped the car on the right as they saw the skids marks from the Crown Victoria. She hurried over to the right side and helped ease John out of the passenger door. He limped to the edge of the gravel, and then stared down at the demolished vehicle.

"Oh…my beautiful Crown Vic" he growled, his shoulders slumped downward. He straightened up suddenly as Annie came up to him, passing off a cane for him to use to stabilize his walk down the slope of the ridge. He nodded his head at her and they both moved slowly down the small hill until they reached his car. He set the cane up against car and reverently touched the bullet holes by the driver's side.

In the bright light of day, they could now see the shattered windshield, and crushed grill that was wedged around a 20 foot high fir tree. The driver's door was off hinge, and that side of the car had four bullet holes in it. Inside on that side, Casey saw his blood pooled up on the seat, and the seat belt hanging in two pieces. The back trunk had popped open and Casey limped over with the crutch to retrieve his weapons and gear.

"Damn.." he grunted before he could stop it. "Sorry, Annie. My weapons are gone." He hit the trunk lid with his hand and stared around the crash sites for clues.

"What, John" Annie came up to him, and then looked down to see a very empty trunk.

Without answering, Casey maneuvered around to the passenger side, and tried to pry the door open to find his cell and his watch. Both items were gone. There was not G.P.S. tracking on his car anymore and his various alias identifications, normally stored in the glove box were gone. A twig snapped loudly from up on the hillside. He shot up from his bending position, hissing as the gun shot wound opened up slightly, and then spoke sharply to Annie.

"Annie, get over here now." He pulled his Sauer from behind his back waist band, and crouched behind the passenger side. Annie swiftly obeyed and moved to squat behind him silently. "What's wrong, John." She whispered. Just then a whizz from a 9 millimeter silenced gun rang out and ricocheted off the top of the car, past Casey's left ear and imbedded itself in a nearby tree. Annie yelped, and Casey pushed her down to the ground, as he tried to check across the way for site of the sniper.

There, up the hill, were two men, guns cocked, and pointing their way.

"Lt. Casey, or should I say Colonel," one called out. "We have you at a big disadvantage. Either you come out from behind that car, with your woman, or we will pick you off right from where we stand." The accent was thick, with Middle Eastern influences, the tone, deep and gravely. To prove his point, the man nodded to the second man beside him and again the bullet whizzed within 6 inches of Annie.

"Next time, Colonel Casey, my man, Bahir, will not miss." The leader called out and waited for Casey's next move.

"John, we can't go out there. They will kill us." Annie caught his gun hand, and pleaded with him.

His stern face softened and he reached to stroke her cheek.

"Annie, if we don't go now, they'll kill us here. At least, this way, we can find out who they are, and what they want." He stood up and held his Sauer high in the air.

"All right, we're coming out. Just don't shoot." He put the gun tucked in the front of his waist band now so the men could see where it was, and he beaconed Annie to walk under his right arm, as he used the cane with his left. They limped carefully out to the middle of the crash site, and watched the two men walked slowly down the hill, Bahir's gun still drawn, and a red citing spot aimed at Casey's chest.

Bahir strolled up warily to Casey, and walked carefully around the both of them. Casey instinctively clutched at Annie harder and pulled her inward to his side. As Bahir moved to the front, he pulled the Sauer out of the Casey's waist band, and then before Casey could react, he pulled back and punched the Sauer into Casey's gut, right where the bullet hole was.

"Arrggh" Casey immediately folded and fell to his left, releasing Annie. Bahir swept Annie up, and aimed the Sauer right at her temple. "John", Annie screamed, and as Casey tried to rise up, the leader ran over to him and kicked the wounded man in his right ribs. Casey heard the crack of the rib right as the man grabbed his hair and pulled his head back.

"Remember me, Col? " The man's rancid breathe burned Casey's eyes, and he struggled to gasp in breath and get up to help the parson. "Oh, I remember you, Col. Or should I saw, Lt. Casey?" Casey tried to shake the pain away, and the man tightened his grip on Casey's hair. "Maybe, you remember my brother." The man released Casey and then before the NSA agent could recover, the man swung back again and kicked several blows to Casey's ribs. "Dear God, "Annie screamed. "Stop, please." She tried to wrench herself away from Bahir, but he only tightened his hold and whispered huskily in her ears, "you are making me want you, woman. See there's your man. He can't help you now. Maybe I'll rape you and let him watch." His hand was clutching her left breast and crushing it to her body.

"John" Annie screamed, and struggled again to help him.

Casey was curled up on the forest floor, trying to protect his ribs from the onslaught of the man's hatred. He struggled to at least crawl forward toward Annie, but blow upon blow came, until the man finally stomped on Casey's right leg, right on the half broken femur. Casey screamed as the bone shattered again, the brace now destroyed by the thug's boot, and he nearly blacked out from the pain. The man stopped, and eyed Bahir, who was relishing the struggling Annie.

"Bahir, do you think I should stop and tell the Colonel who I am? Maybe if I got the whip out he would remember." The man turned around and withdrew a long whip hidden by his coat. He knelt over the wounded colonel on the forest ground, placed the whip's handle under Casey's chin, and pushed his chin up to look him in the eyes.

"Look at me, Col. Look at me carefully. I am your hellhole reminder from Afghanistan. I have been looking for you for over 10 years, Col. We thought we killed you in the wreck, but I am glad we came back to check." He let Casey's head drop, and he moved to behind Casey, He laid the whip down and with one slice of a knife ripped the back of Casey's t- shirt right up the middle. Pocketing the knife, he lifted the whip and let the strap slide across Casey's shaking shoulders. "I was there with you in Afghanistan. I was the one who beat you, Lt." He drew back his hand, and the strap rapidly struck Casey's sweaty back. Casey reared his head back, but merely grunted.

"I was the man in charge of whipping you each day." The whip once again ripped Casey's back, and the agent reared back again, this time, the grunt was louder. But he still did not scream.

"My brother, Kalid, interrogated you day after day, with my help" The whip rang out again, and blood began to spray as Casey's back was being ripped apart. Casey still said nothing but struggled to crawl even closer to Annie, grasping at the grass around him,

Annie was weeping, and she no longer could stand. Bahir dropped her to the ground, and clutched at her waist, pulling her into his body, the Sauer now under her chin. "You will watch what Nahahn will do to your man, woman. "

"Dear Jesus, help John" Annie could only pray for her friend, and watch helplessly as Nahahn rained three more strokes onto Casey. The agent was clawing the ground, his breathe heaving through his chest, the veins throbbing on the sides of his forehead, sweat and blood mingling down his chest and back. But he looked up and riveted his eyes right at Annie, and groaned aloud. "Annie, don't…"Casey gasped,,, and endured another lashing…."stop…" he arched up this time, and cried out as Nahahn struck him "praying…". Casey screamed it out, as if it was his last triumphal cry.

As Nahahn raise his hand one more time, a shot rang out from the top of the hill, and

the sadistic whippier fell backwards to the ground. Bahir twirled around but before he could raise the Sauer, he too was shot between the eyes. Annie cried out, but sprang into action as soon as she could she ran over to Casey's side. She bent over, her tears wetting his face, and she took his head gently in his arms, whipping his face with his shredded t- shirt.

"Sing…to… me. Parson" Casey gasped each word distinctively, and his entire body shook in absolute pain. His arms tried to hold Annie as close to him as he could, and she gasped again at the horrific damage to his back.

"As a deer panteth for the waters"…Annie broke down, crying, and stopped singing. Casey lifted his shaking hand, and traced the tears on her face…"Annie, don't stop…" he begged her, and she began again quietly, rocking him slowly, as the wreck site was being stormed by American soldiers. "As a deer panteth for the waters, so my soul panteth after thee." A blond haired woman ran over to them and bent down to touch Casey.

Annie stopped the rocking movement, and Casey grabbed the woman's other hand. "So glad…" Casey gulped, "to see you, Walker."

"Casey, we're here. We got you. Major, bring the stretcher here, quickly." Walker turned back to Casey, who had returned his arms to the woman kneeling beside him.

Casey grunted…"Walker, meet my parson, Annie. Damn… sorry, Annie" he began to shake uncontrollably now, "My Crown Vic…did you see what they did do my car, Walker?" He began to sway and his eyes rolled up and once again, Col. John Casey was out for the count.

It had been over a month since that horrible day in the forest. Casey had been taken to an agency hospital, and Annie had been allowed to go with him, as per his request. For a week, John was hooked up to a respirator and was placed in a drug induced coma to allow for his injuries to heal. His femur had been pinned and his back had to have some skin grafting where Nahahn had done the greatest damage. In that time, Annie met Sarah Walker, and the famous Chuck Bartowski, and was delighted by the obvious affection they both had for Casey. Annie had been allowed additional time off by her church, but the day was fast approaching when she needed to return to her duties back at the church. She had been cleared by the NSA and CIA, and they trusted her to keep everything that had occurred confidential. Sarah and Chick had explained as much as they could to Casey and Annie about Kalid's brother and henchman who had located Casey through the Victoria's G.P.S. system. They had come to kill Casey, to avenge Kalid's death, and had shot Casey and his car and forced him off the road that fateful and terrifying evening. Walker and the C.I.A. had received one last cell phone call from Casey before he blacked out, and they used the G.P.S. triangulation to finally locate him.

It was now Annie's last day before the government helicopter was to fly her home, and she was once again at the side of this John she had grown to love and admire deeply. Lying on his right side, to keep pressure off his healing back, he currently was holding her hand, and his thumb idly drawing circles around the top of it. His blue eyes gazed gently on her, and he bumped her gently with their joined hands.

"Well, Parson, I hear your home town needs you back. I bet you will have a lot of sermon material for your congregation after this time with me," he grunted and tickled her.

Annie laughed out loud, and then crossed her heart. "Col. I promised the U.S. government that I would never breathe a word about this experience, but maybe I'll talk about a man with clover leaf boxers and penchant for singing high c's"

The Col's eyebrow raised up and he grunted out, "Again with the clover leaf shorts." Annie giggled and then said…"I'm still waiting to hear where you got those."

Just then Chuck burst through into the room with a large bouquet of flowers. "hey, Annie, Casey, how ya doin, big guy?"

Casey instantly turned stoic, dropped Annie's hand and tried to act gruff around his young partner. "Just fine, before you interrupted me, Bartowski.. And by the way, you shouldn't have." He pointed to the flowers.

"Oh, sorry, Casey, these aren't for you. They are for the lovely Pastor Annie." He bowed elegantly toward Annie who giggled when she saw Casey look a little hurt. Chuck twirled around, and then throw a package at John.

"But these are for you, big man. Go ahead. Open them." Chuck was bouncing on his heels, his friendly smile plastered across his face.

Casey slowly opened the package wrapped in Buy More gift wrap, and then threw his head back to the pillow, and began to laugh…a true, deep, wonderful laugh. Chuck's eyes grew large at the sight of his usual grim partner, and he clapped his hands. "Show them to the parson, big guy."

Casey blushed, actually blushed, and then held up a package for her to see: a set of white boxer shorts with green clovers.

Epilogue

The worship time at the little rural church had been warm and joyous for their Pastor was back from her extended vacation. The audience seemed ready to listen, and after praying, Parson Annie began her talk.

"In Luke chapter 15, our Lord Jesus talks about three things that were lost. In each circumstance, someone was seeking, long and hard for these three items."

Just then, the sanctuary door opened slightly, and a tall, good looking, muscular man, in a dark grey suit handling a cane in his left hand, entered and slipped carefully in the nearest pew. A few of the church members greeted him warmly, a little surprised to see this elegant man. One little lady nearest him passed him a Bible opened to the passage the pastor was speaking on, and the man smiled widely and whispered, "Thank you, ma'am." He then turned his attention to up front, and nodded at the woman at the pulpit. Her face broke out in a huge grin and she continued.

"Three items: a lost lamb, a lost coin, and a lost son. In the case of the lost lamb, the shepherd searched many days for the little lamb, even leaving the safety of the flock to other shepherds as he searched far and wide for that which he believed mattered too much to leave behind."

The man who had entered late, grunted softly and nodded his head at the parson's words.

"In the second event, a woman has lost something very dear to her, a coin. Perhaps, a lost coin would mean nothing to us, but to her it represented her dowry, her marriage money, that she would sew into a wide band of cloth and wear on her wedding day. When she lost that coin, she lost her dreams." At that statement, the man hung his head slightly, and a brief shiver of cold swept through his body, a long ago memory of dark torture flittered across his mind. The little old lady next to him, reached out and touched his hand lightly. He patted it and then smiled once more. Satisfied that he was all right, the granny nodded and then they both continued to listen.

"So she searched long and hard, up and down, all through her house until she found it."

"In the third event, the father had lost someone so very dear to him, his youngest son. The boy had gotten restless, and demanded to be paid an early inheritance so he could get away from his father's confining boundaries. Once away from his home, he squandered every bit of it in wine, women and song." A ripple of soft laughter sounded throughout the church, as the preacher illustrated the statement with wild arm gestures and a few hip wiggles.

"Each day, the father would walk his farm fence line, looking vainly for his lost son, yearning to once more hold him in his arms." Annie locked eyes with the handsome late comer, and she wiped a small tear from her eye, and continued to speak.

"Then Jesus goes on to tell us that in each event, once the lost item was found there was such great rejoicing, everyone in the neighborhood was invited over for a party. In the case of the lost sheep, the shepherd invited others shepherds to a campfire s'more making party." The congregation again laughed, and the latecomer chuckled in spite of himself.

"Well, shepherds lived then 24/7 in the open air and I think the kind of parties they had were over an open fire. And the best way to celebrate that way is with s'mores right?" Granny, next to the latecomer, poked him in the ribs lightly and called out "amen." The handsome man next to her jumped a little and then guffawed under his breath. The preacher shrugged her shoulders and went on.

"Once the lost coin was found, the woman invited all her lady friends over and they probably noshed on Jewish cookies and talked gossip about all the eligible bachelors left over after this woman would now get married." Granny then leaned closer to the man, and whispered, "Young man, are you married?" The man jerked his head up, and promptly put his left index finger to his lips. The granny actually snickered, and when he looked up at the preacher, she was grinning widely at his predicament.

"Once the lost son was discovered, the father was so overjoyed that he fixed the best feast anyone could have for his found son. He invited all the other farmers over for roast and ribs, and put a new coat and a new ring on the finger of his beloved son." The latecomer touched his Marine ring, and recalled the night the parson's hands had touched the emblem engraved therein. The little old lady glanced at the ring too, and then her eyes grew large as she realized what he was. "My son is a Marine, too, soldier. Thank you for serving our country." She once more leaned over to him and patted him on the leg.

He smiled gently at her, for she reminded him of his mother whom he had not seen for a few years. And then he paid attention to the preacher once more.

"You see, dear church, many people are lost in this world. I don't mean that they have physically lost their bearings, like someone who gets lost in the city or in a dense forest."

Again, the preacher's choice of words were working their way into the man's heart and gently squeezing his soul with a comforting grace.

"They are lost from their true home, a place in relationship and joy in the presence of the One who made them. They, by choice, or by force, have found themselves lost in a pool of despair or depression or helplessness. Everywhere they look, they find only darkness."

Her words once again caused the latecomer to remember the darkness he felt not too many months earlier, and he stretched his back a little and grimaced at the slight pain he still felt. Granny leaned over once more and asked "war wound?" Startled at her insight, he could only nod slightly at her quick assessment. Yes, He thought, war wounds.

"But, dearest, there is a Savior who loves all the lost…." the parson paused and she let in a little sob.." and seeks very so diligently to find them. To find you". She stared directly at the latecomer, and his eyes begin to water strangely.

"In fact, He will literally move heaven and earth, to find that which means so very much to him: that which caused Him to give up his life for…You." The congregation was riveted to her words, including the man and granny, whose tiny hand had somehow found itself clutched by the strong hand of the man sitting next to her.

"The Bible teaches that Jesus Christ came to seek and save the lost…not a lost coin, or a lost sheep, but a lost son, a lost daughter, a lost grandchild, aunt, uncle, doctor, farmer, preacher, " the speaker grinned, "or a lost warrior." Granny's hand was squeezed gently and then released.

"So dear one, if you are lost, you have a Friend who will seek you out, a Friend that will eternally love on you and search for you and find you and return you safely home to Him. Do you know this wonderful Friend? Do you know He wants you to be safe in His arms even today?" Pastor Annie Coburn stopped and then asked, "Will you let Him turn your heart towards home and safety? Shall we pray?"

When she concluded the prayer, she looked up but the seat beside her favorite adopted granny was not longer occupied. She frowned slightly, her heart sinking in her chest, but still she whispered, as the worship band played the last chorus, "Jesus, be with my John, my warrior. May You always seek him, and help him come home safe."

Pastor Annie walked down the center aisle and greeted each member at the front door as they left the church. Each person received a hug or handshake, and a touch on the shoulder or the clasp of hands seemed to brighten the faces of everyone she greeted. The latecomer was hiding away behind in the corner watching her, as she greeted her "flock". He grunted when he felt someone bump into him.

"Young man, are you going to meet our pastor?" Granny grinned up to him, and begin to drag him down the short hallway towards the pastor. "Madam…really…I don't think…"

The tall handsome man pulled back, hesitant to draw near, and he stumbled slightly as his right leg caught a corner of the area rug. Granny grabbed his arm, and then she slowed down as she saw his struggle with the cane. "You fought for your country and you fought for my freedom, young man, and you are afraid to meet our little pastor lady?" She goaded him on, and he nodded his head finally. It was then Annie looked up, and broke out in a hug grin and ran to Col. John Casey. He limped quickly to her, and with only God and granny as a witness, he wrapped his arms around her, and lowered his lips and pulled her into a deep, satisfying kiss.

"Oh, Parson, I have missed you" John groaned out loud, and then whispered, "my beloved Annie," as he lowered his head into her hair and inhaled the fresh peach scent. Granny let out a yelp and a whoop and then said "Glory, I have been praying for our Pastor Annie to meet a nice young man, and here she did it without any of my matchmaking skills."

Casey and Annie both burst out in laughter, and John introduced himself to this wonderfully joyous old woman. "Well, I knew you were something special when you came into the service today, Mr. Casey. After all you couldn't take your eyes off our Pastor and besides" she reached up and touched the lapels on his suit. She slid her hands up and down and felt the rich texture of the material used. "We don't get such finely suited men around here much. The men in our church usually wear Carhardts and overalls. HaHaa. You kids behave now, ok?" Granny walked swiftly out, waving at them as she left the church building.

"John, how are you? What are you doing? And better yet, how long can you stay?"

Annie walked arm in arm with him to her office, slowing down when she realized he was still having trouble with his leg.

"I'm off mission for about another week, and I thought we could have dinner together if you are free." John helped Annie with her coat, and then together they locked up the church building and headed for the parking lot. They talked easily about things until he began to steer her away her Beetle bug, and off to the corner of the lot. There, sitting proudly all by itself, was a 1985 black Crown Victoria.

"John, are you kidding me?" Annie roared out with laughter and lovingly touched the car. "How did you get another one?" She demanded, her eyes sparkling.

"Well, Bartowski, is, at least, good for something. He found it on Craig's List." John laughed along with her and helped her into the front seat, stowing a picnic basket in the back seat of his beloved car. "I wanted to take it for a spin and so I did." He smugly said.

"But, John, all the way from Burbank?" Annie looked at him with wonder, and he nodded. "Now, Parson Annie Coburn, where would you like to go?"

"How about a little cabin up on top of a mountain ridge where I hear tell there's a bottle of old scotch for the warrior, a lullaby for the lady, and a … picnic basket full of goodies?" Annie pointed to the basket.

"I know just the right cabin, just the right lullaby and certainly, just the right food!" John reached for Annie's hand, and as he pulled out of the parking lot, he began to sing in his strong, deep bass, "Hush, Little baby, don't you cry."

The End


End file.
